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The Daily Verse

To make The Wise Owl more dynamic, we have introduced The Daily Verse, a segment where we will upload poetry all  days of the week. Just send in a poem to editor@thewiseowl.art

Theme for May
Transformation

Image by Shot by Cerqueira

Monay, 20th May, 2024

a dried river bed.jpg

The River dries

By Chayanika Saikia

Hand Drawing

The river d(r)ies

to the fish bones.

 

Three birds feathered down,

transpose into water

percolating beneath a stone-ground

(where young fishes practice swimming;
soon, downstream they would plunge).

 

Spring is a burial song,

(of) old flowing into the new.

About the Author

Chayanika Saikia'work has appeared in Muse India, Petrichor (Pebbles), Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English 2022 (Hawakal), Madras Courier (forth-coming), Café Dissensus, PikerPress, EKL REVIEW, hākārā, Setu (Pittsburgh), The Assam Tribune, Parcham, Y a w p, The Little Journal of Northeast India, New York Parrot, Indian Periodical etc. and in anthologies like ‘Varna Vaibhav’ (Asom Sahitya Sabha), ‘The Kali Project’, ‘Poetry Unites’, 'Antargatha', 'Ismat' etc. "Mimosa Land (WissenMonk, 2023) and ‘Kor pora kho loi’ (e-kolom Asom Prakashan, 2022) are her poetry collections. She is the founder/editor of popular Assamese e-magazine 'Katha-kanchan'.

Friday, 17th May, 2024

an abstract with words.jpg

Lost

By Dan Hardison

Hand Drawing

The poem went away
And did not look back.
― James Still


Some might think
it is writer’s block,
but it’s not that words
will not come,
instead they come
and then drift away
lost somewhere between
then and now.

About the Author

A native of Tennessee, Dan Hardison now lives in Wilmington, North Carolina where he is a writer and artist. Dan's artwork is inspired by Japanese woodblocks and ink painting (sumi-e). As an artist and writer, he is drawn to the Japanese haiga – a combination of image and poem. This has led to recent work creating handmade artist books. His writing is primarily in the Japanese short form of haiku and haibun, and has appeared at Frogpond, Cattails, Contemporary Haibun Online, Drifting Sands, and other print and online journals. Dan's work can be found on his website 'Windscape Studio' and blog 'Some Tomorrow’s Morning.'

Thursday, 16th May, 2024

Image by Laura Chouette

Poems on Transformation

By Robert Witmer

Hand Drawing
cicada husks filled with rain.jpg

the grieving gone

cicada husks

filling with rain

another long walk

through the cemetery

spring leaves

spring leaves in the cemetery__.jpg
beam of light from a lighthouse in a stormy sea.jpg

the pulse of a lighthouse

on a stormy sea

the mother's final push

Wednesday, 15th May, 2024

a beautiful painting of a dark night with a moon, a river and fireflies.jpg

On A Summer Evening Walk in San Marcos, Texas, I Remember Mary Oliver

By Oscar Houck

Hand Drawing

The midnight moon, full and gracious,
has softened the river from its deep greens and blues

to silver.
Crickets and cicadas in the cottonwoods
set up a metallic cacophony such that
if I didn't know better,
I would think I was
walking through a machine.
Maybe a giant watch,
with all its internal gears
whirring and clicking.
But I do know better.

 

This is a church,

where the congregants
speak in tongues
that only they can understand.

And the fireflies are votive candles,
whose yellow-gold radiance
flickers against
the indigo night sky,
where someone
has spread salt,
incandescent grains of starlight,
the way farmers used to broadcast seed, by hand,
over the fallow soil of spring.

The river
is one long, baptismal font of motion.
It whispers vespers,
in the low murmur
of water over stones.

The priest however, has gone missing
and so,
the liturgy is left to us.

The world is so obviously alive
despite our best efforts to destroy it.
And we have been allowed here

in spite of it all,
to worship.

 

Let us pray to the mystery
we are a part of,
rather than trying
to own it.

For every day here is a gift and holy.
And every night here is holy.

Amen.

Tuesday, 14th May, 2024

tiny poems.jpg
Hand Drawing
shattered _in an instant…_after the fall_lenticular clouds_slowly drift by.jpg

shattered 

in an instant…

after the fall

lenticular clouds

slowly drift by

how gentle

the wind caresses

the birch 

this longing to hold you

again in my arms 

how gentle_the wind caresses_the birch _this longing to hold you_again in my arms .jpg
regret slips in_like an old friend_why do I _always choose_the hardest path.jpg

regret slips in

like an old friend

why do I 

always choose

the hardest path

Monday, 13th May, 2024

a beautiful abstract in black and white.jpg

On the Face of it

By Hester L. Furey

Hand Drawing

Not being facile, as people think,

Or that other word, the one he slung

            Like an axe and severed us,

            Threw away that future,

            Like any man bearing cudgels.

 

Fascia holds organs in place around

            Bones, binds and bounds,

            Stretches and shrivels,

            Sticks when I am rigid, snaps

            Like any woman with a tongue long bitten.

 

Unshackled, unstoried after asana, having left

            Behind all thoughts of who I am,

            What fiction factions me.

 

Beneath my eye skin, coolness, fresh air flutters,

A breath that means I moved, let go, grew.

 

I am no one again.

My tongue is soft.

Friday, 10th May, 2024

Image by Jorge Fernández Salas

Hopeful

By Dan Hardison

Hand Drawing

There has been rain for days
and even weary flowers
are longing for the sun.

Finally the rain stops
and through a break in the clouds
the arch of a rainbow is revealed –
       a promise.

Thursday, 9th May 2024

Image by Pawel Czerwinski

Poems: On Transformation

By Rupa Anand

Hand Drawing
like an old banyan_going deep into its roots_Benares visit.jpg

like an old banyan

going deep into its roots

Benares visit

on the grass

swinging my arms to & fro

tai chi morning 

on the grass_swinging my arms to & fro_tai chi morning .jpg
sandalwood smoke_blowing in the breeze _Manikarnika.jpg

sandalwood smoke

blowing in the breeze 

Manikarnika

Wednesday, 8th May, 2024

Image by Daoudi Aissa
Hand Drawing

Mind,

The placid pool

Turns murky

With the blowing winds.

Leaves scatter, fly

Trees struggle to stand

They bend, ready to fall

Like an old woman

With blown hair

Clouds move fast

Darkness descends

Then it rains, pours, floods

A grand chaos on the earth

For an hour, stops,

The sky is clear again

As though nothing happened

Except for the inner transformation.

About the Author

Geeta Varma is a poet based in Chennai. She has worked as a teacher and freelance journalist for some time. She has to her credit two books of poems and is a regular contributor to a few online magazines. She lives in Neelankarai with her husband Shreekumar Varma and has two sons, Vinayak married to Yamini, and Karthik.

Tuesday, 7th May, 2024

Image by Ram Kishor

Haiku: On Transformation

By Steliana Cristina Voicu

Hand Drawing
he prunes__the old sour cherry tree…__a chrysalis waiting for wings.jpg

he prunes

the old sour cherry tree…

a chrysalis waiting for wings

after the earthquake -

and yet the cherry tree

in bloom

after the earthquake -__and yet the cherry tree__in bloom.jpg
deep green…_the sky fills_with song.jpg

deep green…

the sky fills

with song

sky ripens…

one cherry redder

than the other

sky ripens…_one cherry redder_than the other.jpg

Monday, 6th May, 2024

Image by Rohit Tandon

Metamorphosis

By Debarati Sen

Worshipping

Like a chrysalis moon, I emerge out of my yesteryears, with nostalgia dripping from my veins.

I look for a home far away from home

like a rootless man seeking a sense of belonging to a place.

As I stand by my window and gaze outside

threadbare memories look for  sunshine on a frosty noon,

their faint murmur is like the bourdon note of yesterday.

From the other end of the horizon, a new tomorrow beckons me,

I trundle along to hold its hand. 

A yesterday wrapped in camaraderie walks past me

and vanishes into the silence of a late winter evening.

As the last train leaves the station,

I prepare to leave yesterday behind

like the old geometry box that I no longer need. 

On my way back, a Gulmohar reminds me,

‘Every end is a new beginning’.

I metamorphose into a butterfly moon. 

THE DAILY VERSE POETS

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